Peter Green

At the WGF in Bangkok back in 2006 a couple of teenagers got into Michael Ginor's foie gras dinner at the Four Seasons. But then it was more of "Shame on you, shame on you" followed by some giggles on their part. Michael was very keen on talking with them after, and tried to have a rational discussion, but it was obvious that they weren't there for a discussion or a debate. Bangkok was fairly benign, more of a lark, than anything else, but the thugism that is raising its head now over this is far uglier. The objective is not to stop the production of foie gras, nor to adjust the handling of animals, but rather to attack what they perceive as a particular "class" of society. And, you can try to have a rational discussion on the pros and cons, on the merits, on the far-from-elevated position in society that many of us enjoy who do like foie gras (although that can be a bit of a stretch....still, we prioritize), on what is and what is not "humane"... But, in the end..... It's obvious that they're not interested in discussion or debate.

Is the Southern version you mention the deep fried cake. Is that the county fair one that was posted awhile ago as "deep fried coke" or something like that, I did a quick search for the thread, but couldn't find it - but it's out there somewhere.....just lurking and waiting for the unwary.

My better half, Yoonhi, considers tiramisu as one of the standard tests of a kitchen. It sounds like this place doesn't make the grade.

I haven't been since the summer of 2006, and that was for lunch, which I quite enjoyed. Yoonhi was there last summer with friends, and liked it enough to go back. My impression was that they did a very good lunch crowd (with a location that suits it, tucked back around the corner from the offices) but that the same location, out of sight of the evening crowds, doesn't help them much. If I was living in Vancouver, and had the occasion to be around that part of Robson, I would be including them in my options.

Here's a quote from my last Korea trip. Here's Mr. Pizza's link (working)

Actually, could you give us a list of some of the recipes? That sounds interesting!

For Whistler, the chef at Bearfoot Cafe has been doing well for herself in the Canadian competitions. Also, check on Quattro to see if they've got any visiting chefs in. I caught Vivalda from Piedmont there two years ago just after his place in Italy took a second star. Plus, the hotel there isn't a bad price, and it's easy walking about the village. (Araxas wasn't bad, either, but we just did lunch). For Vancouver, part of it is picking out places that will fit in with touring around the city. Nibbling around Granville Island is always good, and, if you're travelling over 2nd Narrows (rent that car) to go to Lynn Valley or Deep Cove or one of the other scenic parks cum film sets, then you could always stop in at T&T Market on 1st to ogle the fresh seafood and pick yourself up some good food for the drive. And the Raven over towards Deep Cove is a nice pub (but not quiet). Back in Kits, I am fond of Moderne Burger, but they always seem to be closed for renovations. also in Kits, I like Kibune (down by the beach) for Japanese. The regular assortment is good, but ask for what's on the boards for the evening. Aurora at Broadway and Main can be good, as the guys there look to try different things. And Argos Cafe on Ontario is a handy location if you're moving across town. It's only open for lunch, but the chef there is having fun. Plus, you get a happy kitty waving its arm up and down. For cocktails, I'd recommend you check with dipsophilia.com They're Vancouver based and try to cover the cocktail scene.... Darn! I just remembered! The Waldorf opened up the Tiki Room again! I don't know if it's every day, or just on weekends. Beware, I haven't been back since summer of 2006, so I'm a little out of date on things (Feenie still had Lumiere then). For really good Chinese, you are going to have to go across the bridge to Richmond. I shudder at the thought, though. Have fun, and let us know what you find. Peter

Following fast on the heals of the last post..... In The Kitchen With Rosie Oprah's Favorite Recipes by Rosie Daley. 1. When I did the blog, someone spotted it on the shelf 2. You always have to explain it was a gift 3. Because it was a gift, I feel bad about tossing it Honest, it was a gift! From people I like and who come over often! What can I do? (it was a toss up before Daniel's post of this or Cleansing Food which just sounds like something you'd put in your body with a hose)

Hmmmm......Wattay in Vientiane always had very nice beignet and espresso. There are some good noodle spots in Souvarnabhoumi in Bangkok (although pricey). And, of course, I still think that the bar in Bahrain up on the 2nd floor serves a very good bacon lettuce and tomato sandwich.

So, apparently it compares to the Waygu we are more familiar with, and certainly the prices seem in line with that! Anyone familiar with this breed? Tasted them? ← Chris, Tony's in Houston is carrying Akaushi. Here's the link to the dinner itself. I, being me (something I'm just going to have to learn to deal with), screwed up on two counts. The first was major. I forgot the camera. The second was minor. If I'd been thinking, I would've ordered this as a tartare. But, as it tasted really good as a steak, I'd say was only minor. (Really, I screwed up a third time by not managing another dinner at Tony's). Now, isn't wagyu the generic term in use for that specific Japanese grade of beef? When they refer to akaushi, they're refering to the specific bloodline/breed, I thought? As I understand it, this breed is now raised in Texas, and the papers are all in order (and certified through the Japanese authorities). This places wagyu in production in Texas, Alberta, and Australia (sorry, I don't know which state). I've had the Australian, and it was excellent. Like eating butter....or horse. I've still got to try the Albertan. Peter P.S. - Are you still thinking about living in Oklahoma City, a slave to Fedex?

I dunno if this is wise.............. I still have visions of a giant, eternal, cosmic ray mutated mass of kimchi taking over the space station, and from there invading earth! Hmmm......that'd make one heck of a film script. After appropriate scenes of devastation, destruction, and fermentation, in the end humanity is saved by Yoonhi and the kids consuming it in a series of meals, culminating in the last little bit being chased down by Serena, who washes it off and has it with rice and seaweed. I've gotta write this down!

Thank you, Ilana. I've enjoyed this week. Peter

Holly, Thank you for this thread. Like a lot of us, my primary memories of McD's are from the 60's and early 70's (I try to blank out the trauma of time spent in Kid's Rooms that I went through with Scud in the 90's). Of course, being Canadian, it was more climactic for us. We had spent a few years with J.P.Patches and the crowd on KIRO (I think that was the channel, or was it KING?) out of the States extolling the virtues of the Golden Arches, so when the invasion rolled north across the border, we were already in submission, waiting to be taken. But, I remember when the filet-o-fish came on the menu. It was great. Truly great. I do recall that it was the one item at the time you couldn't just get from the tray. Every one we had then entailed a wait, which meant it was fresh when you ripped the wrapper off in wild abandon. Like you said, the bun was steamed to a point of soft compliance, the fish was crisp. And that bit of cheese rounded out the fatiness of the whole product with the tang of the tartar sauce to lift the edges of your smile. When my nephew got us on tuna-Velveeta-ramen in Seoul, this is the sort of feeling I was getting. And, even in those dark, horrible days when I was being told by the McDonald's staff to control my child in the ball pen, the filet-o-fish (and the chips, when they were still deep fried with beef fat) was the item that would anchor my tenuous sanity. To find out now how the miracle of the tartar sauce was accomplished, to know that the bun was steamed to give it that texture to match the fish, and to be aware of it being only a half slice of cheese...... Well, my life is complete. Again, thank you.

Don't give up! You never know until you try. I had an extremely depressing mindset heading to Midland, TX. And the supportive comments I'd received in advance were, well........challenging. But, having tried it, I found things I kinda liked. Funky approaches that you won't get in the big cities. And people like us who've chosen to bring interesting ideas back home. Of course, if you tried to force me to live out there, I'd probably have to hurt you.

Okay! I've just rescued today's egg carton before it was thrown out! What an excellent idea for taking the oil away from fried eggplants.

I'd have to go with the Asians, if I was putting something together in a hurry. A bit of minced pork can be marinated pretty quick (15 minutes of soy, garlic, ginger juice, salt, pepper, and papane - use either some papaya or pineapple if you can't get the Chinese bean/corn flour mix) and then you can use that smother some fried eggplant or whatever else is at hand. Likewise, a curry's a fast thing to put together if you've got some pastes already on hand (and a kaffir lime leaf in the fridge), or you could go for any sort of rice noodle dish (chow fun, phad Thai, etc). Either fresh noodles (if you're lucky) or rehydrated dried rice stick. As an appetizer - but I don't know the cost in Amsterdam (they're expensive here) - Lior's current blog onAshkelon got me thinking again about artichokes, and how pleasant it is to sit with my friends and just slowly work through steamed 'chokes with dipping sauces. Also, back on the Asian side, a pork tenderloin, quickly grilled then sliced, and served cool in a salad with lime, chili, and nampla dressing is very fast and easy, and people come away happy (which is the most important thing). Among the stuff already posted, I like the quesadillas. Chicken tortillas are simple, too, and have the social aspect of everyone building their own. Actually, for an informal dinner, give me something that will either involve everyone together in the kitchen, or else have everyone active at the table. Cheers, Peter

Thanks, Chufi! I felt that I would never get to South America, too. At least not from this hemisphere. But, having done it once, I'm itchy to get back and try some more (especially the potatoes). Life is too short. I'm going to go away and blush for awhile now. Cheers, Peter

Doesn't everyone?

Ahem...I'll be in BKK next winter, probably, and my BKK cousins are too posh to eat at the places I want to eat at. Hint hint... ← Well ill be here with a brand spanking new restaurant by that time,,,,, and more new cool places to eat,,, my favs are the monster river prawns,,,, then they make fried rice with the delicious bright yellow internal organs,,, mmmm speaking of,,, gonna go to the river now ← Mmmmmm...Silver Spoon at Tha Thewet used to do those exceptionally well. I wonder if that places has finished falling into the river yet?

Oh, fresh artichokes! The last time I was out west to Cairo I packed my suitcase with fresh artichokes, brought them home, and we ate them with garlic and butter. That was too long ago.......

I really do feel bad about not getting back for that cheese. Thanks for sticking with me through this, Shelby. It's been a long, long trip, marred by the fact that my company expects me to do some work when I'm on these junkets. It is nice to be home, with my own kitchen, my own ingredients, and my own schedule. And there is some extra me there around the middle that I'll have to do something about. At least, I'd better do something about it before the next trip.

Final Exit You wake up some mornings with serious regrets. First and foremost among these is having woken up. Luckily, this was not a dawn patrol morning. Leaving the Palliser at 8:30 a.m. would ensure plenty of time at the airport to catch the flight to Toronto, which in turn had plenty of time to get me to Amsterdam, and so on. But as I came to rest in the lounge at the airport, looking out on the thaw that was beginning to break the hold of this resurgent winter, I thought on the things that I hadn’t accomplished. Being a Rat (this is my year) my most pressing agony was not having gone back for cheese at Divino’s. (Sorry, Shelby) And I chastised myself for failing to ensure reservations in advance for Capo’s. More mortifying was my holding up the others in Bogota that morning, running late and reeking of mojitos. However, as soon as that image crept into my mind, I couldn’t help but smile. So much for regrets. I recalled that they won’t serve beer here until 11. However, the sly among us know that there’s often some still left in the lines. I coaxed a Guinness out, poured a cup of coffee, and considered the high points of this four week marathon. First, I was, by going back to my early mission statement, a failure. I had hardly done serious damage to my expense account, with the food element of most meals seldom getting above $70. Tony’s in Houston was probably the only major blow out, and that due to the wagyu. If I’d gone with my second choice, the duck for two, I still would have been under $100. Houston, itself, I grow fonder with each passing trip. I think part of it is the surprise of discovery. The city itself is a fractal – self repeating patterns – that can cause people to rest in their locales and never leave. Why drive twenty minutes just to get to the same selection of shops and stores that you have right here? But food is the joker in the deck, and there are enough people in Houston that love making good food, and that love eating good food, that you have a reason to explore the town, looking for things that break the mold. Finding Hugo’s and Café Montrose face to face across Westheimer, expressing different continents and common threads, is something I could write a book on. Didn’t Doddie call me verbose back there somewheres? Midland I was prepared to pick on (I had another word, but it may not be politically correct), but I liked the Wall Street Bar & Grill. And Johnny’s BBQ was a good lunch (and a great price, which again didn’t help my expense account total). In particular, though, I liked what Scott Gunn was doing with his place, The Bar. He’s a man after my own heart, bringing new food ideas back to his own kitchen. Okay, I’m not as big an Elway fan as he is – carving “Elway” into the floor and naming his dog after him – but I admire a lot more of what I saw of this guy who worked his way up from deliveries. Calgary has become a very interesting experiment, with a food scene that borders on the incestuous – chefs trading off from one restaurant to another, partnerships formed, expanded, curtailed. As before, I had some very fine meals, and was struck at the fun people have with their food (okay, they didn’t want me making snowballs of the rice….) But Bogota. Bogota was the real gem for me. Perhaps part of that is just the novelty of being in South America, a land mass that I’ve only skirted the coast of (and that’s something so long ago I can’t remember)? But exposure to the southern part of America has put me in a mind of potatoes (and a good thread here on a BBC article) and of meats. Of sausages and arepas and empanaditas and ceviche and stouts. Of a sophisticated and passionate people. And, of course, of mojitos. And that just makes me smile again. Final tracking point for this trip Part 1 - Houston Part 2 - Bogota Part 3 - Midland Part 4 - Calgary (just for the sake of being complete) and www.dipsophilia.com for the boozing

Okay, the answer is in from the magic of the information superhighway! I was listening to Scott Nolan, and I was drinking Thirsty Beaver. Seek, and ye shall find.

If anyone needs it, I have the contact for our guide, Java, in Chengdu. She hadn't started out doing food, but once she realized that people wanted to find our more of what Sichuan cuisine had to offer, she warmed to the task immensely.

Finals I’d forgotten how quiet Calgary could be on a Sunday. I’d gone South of the tracks to take in a quiet hour or two of writing at Bottlescrew Bill’s, just behind our hotel. Shut. Locked. Closed. Not open. Fermee. So, the question then is “now what?”. Do I go back in the other direction, and end up back at the Joyce? I’d just left there not an hour or two ago. That wouldn’t do. No, I struck further South. Surely there’d be something of interest down here. I did find things of interest, I will say. There was the Hop In Brew Pub, fit into an old house. It looked good. It looked pleasant. It looked closed. It was closed. There was the Gravity Room Bikini Lounge. But the big padlock on the wooden door suggested they weren’t taking guests (pity). And there was Soda, which looked like a good family place for a quiet afternoon (if you’re family consists of Goth crack dealers), but they weren’t open either. But I had spotted a frozen crowd in front of the Drum & Monkey, and a frozen crowd generally means smokers, which generally means “they’re open”. Sherlock Holmes, eat your heart out. The Drum worked. WiFi available, and Guinness on tap. An interesting cross of East Coast pub and Goth hangout. Stuffed monkeys in boats, Flames paraphernalia, and a clientelle of skulls and crossed bones. I saw about ten taps behind the bar, and a sensible collection of bottles. I chatted with the pleasant young lady that was holding the whole place down. She had very good things to say about the Hop In, and it pained me that they were closed. Discoveries always seem to come too late. The smoking scrum came back in from the cold (they were on a 5 minute rotation, it seemed). Skulls, eyerings (or whatever you call them) and blonde hair dyed black. A nice, homey, neighborhood pub. I’ll be back here. Back at the hotel I finished packing and stopped in the lounge for a small bit of wine. Everything else was still shut. Having a little bit of common sense, I got a lamb chop into me to help carry me through. It was dinner time, and, being a Sunday, most things were shut (Capo’s included). The Raw Bar at the Hotel Arts had been on my list, and it was open. It had received mixed reviews, but I’d dropped in there after a lunch at St. Germaine a couple of years ago, and I’d liked what I’d heard while speaking with the bartender. Recently, in town, a couple of people had talked about how the bartender would match cocktails to the courses, and that sounded like something I’d enjoy. The room is a pretty thing. Very much a theme in red, with a nice cluster of balloon glasses over the bar catching the light. Dining expands away from the bar in a couple of levels, and reaches a fair ways back. Seating is a little low, but not to the extent of being lounge seating than restaurant. The effect reminds me of Syn Bar at the Nai Lert in Bangkok (although it doesn’t have those funky swinging chairs, thank heavens). I started by asking for a signature cocktail. A place like this that prides itself on its mixology should have something they pride themselves upon. Maybe Sunday’s the wrong day to be here? It was apparent that the main mixer (Franz) wasn’t here, so I looked down at the cocktails they’d listed. It was a pretty good list. I went with El Quinta. Raw Bar’s Franz Swinton and Graham Warner are representing Canada in the international competition going on this month in Cuba, and they’d worked this drink up as their entry. This used Havana Club Anos, 7 year old Dubonnet red, pressed red pepper juice, ginger, and lemon grass, and was garnished with two kaffir lime leafs in series. (reading the press release just now, I’m intrigued about the idea of a warm bacon foam on a cocktail! This was their “Surf N Sour”, a basil and calvados sour with a seared scallop servedon a wedge of grapefruit, and topped with said foam) They also had sake on the menu, which I’d missed out on this trip. I ordered the ginjo katana jyunmai as a side. While I waited upon the drinks, I looked over their published rules. I was perplexed. Does a restaurant need to caution that “baseball caps be checked and not worn”? Are fisticuffs that common here? I’d eaten at St. Germain next door, and never had that feeling there. I turn to the menu to consider something solid. I did ask about specials, but was told that there were no specials, what was on the menu was what was on the menu. The appetizer section is a little short, not quite what I was expecting, as I’d been thinking that, as a “bar”, they’d be working more to small plates. Still, it’s my first time here and any assumptions are my own baggage to deal with. Likewise, nothing stops me from working over the appetizers, so I concentrate upon those. (I had grand notions at this time of continuing across a range of locales, doing small bits and bites as a meandered…..keep on reading). My El Quinto came. Tall, proud, and a fairly clean cocktail to take the edge off of my incipient hunger (that lamb rib only goes so far). I couldn’t much make out the kaffir, though, as it hadn’t been torn, but left intact to preserve it’s good looks. Maybe this is the right move, as the kaffir aroma is pretty aggressive. But I like aggressive, so I ripped the leaves and let them give up that smell. I can’t help it, I miss Thailand. While Franz isn’t here tonight, there’s no problem with the cocktail. It’s been well executed, and I wouldn’t complain. Next, while waiting on the first appetizer, I tried the Jao Ying – “Princess”. There’s a strong Thai element running through everything here. The drinks, the food, the red décor….okay, that’s a bit more Shanghai chic, with overtones of Rouge Bar or the Glamour Bar. Anyways, where was I? Oh, yes, the Jao Ying – Bombay gin, melon liqueur, raspberries, and basil leaves. A good aroma, and a strong backdrop of gin, the Bombay giving a nice colour. My first course was a maki, crab if I recall. A soy sesame sauce for salt, and an interesting marinade of what I thought was dried mango, but was actually squid (which goes to show how little I know) steamed with tamarind. It’s a fair enough approach, but, as I eat like this every week at home, I wasn’t too excited. It was a little on the “ricey” side, not quite balanced against the ingredients. What did get me excited was the fact that they’d forgotten my sake. However, once he realized the omission, my waiter was very good about getting it for me, and then comped it to make up for the delay. I don’t mind people making mistakes if they learn from them. The kitchen sent out another dish, with a lovely yellow foam, a lightly crusted seared bit of squid (I think….my notes are going astray here). I’m in a pretty good mood at this point, and, when I order the Nova Scotia lobster and strawberry salad, with fingerling potatoes, I’m up at the bar kibitzing on the choice of a cocktail to go with this. I’d been interested in seeing if something worked up with the Dandan Shyochyu potato shochu from the Ryukyus would work, given the potato commonality. But they (sensibly) didn’t think this would work. Instead we went with an Aviation which should have had Bombay Sapphire as the back stop, but I went with the Juniper Green Organic gin they had from Surrey (England, not B.C.). The gin was “lashed with maraschino liqueur and fresh lemon sauce”. I love listening to cocktail talk. Especially after reading Amis. My notes would indicate that I was somewhat captivated by the play of the oil from the lemon skin, the way it detaches from the rind and plays about the top of the martini. As I listen in on the other table (it’s a habit) I catch the waitress there going through some detailed explanations of the cocktails. My opinion of the staff goes up a notch or two. The salad is a good mix. Different. The potatoes give a good body and texture with the buttery lobster. And the strawberries are tart enough to twist things aglay. I ordered some of the shochu to go alongside this. As I was tucking into the salad, I overheard another conversation (now you know not to eat in the same room as I), this one between a fellow who had taken up a position at the bar and was inquiring about tequila. Remind me to put that down on my self-appraisal. “Problem solver”. If someone’s got a problem, I’ll solve it…..whether they want me to or not. (At least once I get beyond the 20 or so drink limit). An antipodean, he was complaining about the lack of good tequilas in Oz, and was inquiring which he should try. As you can imagine (if you can’t, then just work with this) I was up there in a flash, and suggested that if he hadn’t had a lot of tequilas, then he might like to try an anejo, as they had two here. He was kind enough to ask me to join him, but I begged off in order to finish my dinner. It always seems unkind to eat while someone else is not. Salad done, I was back at the bar and enjoying an Herradura anejo with Tony. Tony was already a couple of sips ahead of me, but was enjoying the difference in savour of this over the typical Cuervos we grow up with. Meeting Tony was fun. Tony Hooper, winemaker for Wyndham Estate, was in town as part of a long foreign jaunt promoting their wines through dinners and classes. Like me, he looks on business travel as an evil it’s best to pass on to others, but when you can’t escape it, you might as well do it well. Tony and I got into the next stage, which was the Corralejo anejo. This was magnificently smooth. From my vantage here at the bar, I took the opportunity to gawk at some of the plates going out. Occassionaly, as with the tuna tataki with shiitake mushrooms, I’d make them pose the plate. I’m insufferable at the best of times. On a wound up binge like this, well…… Leaning over and beyond the plate, I checked out what the Raw Bar had for working material. Sort of like a Korean kim bap sip, a collection of handy items to quickly work with. For what I’d had, I was content. The cocktails had been handled properly. The bartender, although he wasn’t Franz, knew what he was doing and how to do it. The dishes came from the kitchen properly plated and with nothing out of place, and the room (although fairly empty) had a nice ambience, but one more directed to lounging than to eating. Perhaps that’s more what I’d been hoping for. A space that just worked the small, tapas-sushi-snacks type angle, and had fund with the cocktails to go with it. I can’t comment on the mains, but the venue and the spirit of the place seemed to go counter to sitting down to a heavy set of courses. Still, I was happy, and I was full. Unfortunately, this meant that my dreams of hitting a number of places on this, my last night, went out the window. I needed to be sensible, and limit myself to goals that were within the dignity of my elder years. So I went to A Bar Named Sue. They’d been talking about this at the Joyce when I met my friend there a couple of nights back. Acoustic guitar, chicken wire, and good enough beer. How could I pass? I strolled the dozen or so frozen blocks, and sure enough, there it was. I know, I know, this is all more dipsophilia stuff, but it’s best to end the night on a note more in keeping with my milieu (whatever that means). I have emailed them to find out what the beer was that I was drinking. The head on this was fantastic, tall, firm, and frothing like Cujo. I should know what it was, but the tap they’d pulled it from was only identified by a stuffed beaver. And the big draw was the music. Acoustic, as promised, but playing covers of punk rock classics. I know I’m in for a good night when the band asks “Does anyone know the Cramps?” And I can sing along to Eat the Rich! Yee haw!